The Widow Wager (13 page)

“Gemma, God, I’m a clod,” he said, reaching for her hands. “I was not raised under particularly normal circumstances, though I think you can see that my mother is the picture of gentility. But I sometimes don’t think beyond myself. You will have to bear with me and perhaps gently point out when I am being an idiot of the highest order.”

She laughed. “Will it happen often?”

He grinned. “Likely every damned day. But let me further assure you that my servants have seen and dealt with some…well, we will just say circumstances that have likely scandalized them more than this one.”

Her mouth twisted. “Worse than a bride you had to marry after you lost a bet?”

“This would be the first time I did that, of course,” he said. “I think.” He expected her to laugh again, but when she didn’t, he rushed to continue, “But all I’m trying to say is that I think they’ll be relieved to have a lady in the house. A true lady who will put things in order. You will have no trouble or judgment from anyone in my employ. If you do, they will no longer
be
in my employ.”

She drew back. “Truly?”

“Truly.”

She slid her hands from his. “Crispin, do you often drink so much that you don’t recall what you’ve done?”

He was accustomed to seeing her blush by now, but he was taken aback when he felt his own cheeks begin to fill with embarrassed heat. “I—many men drink, Gemma. All the men in my acquaintance.”

She held his gaze. “That wasn’t the question.”

He sighed. “I didn’t always do this, if that is what you want to know. But in the last year, yes, I have likely been too deep in my cups and far too often.”

“Why in the last year?” she pressed.

He scowled as he turned his face. “I think that is enough confession for this evening.”

He knew she was watching him as he stood up and walked away. He knew she wanted to question him further, but the subject she had just broached was not one he discussed with anyone
ever
. No one knew the answer to her question and he wasn’t about to start giving over his soul to her about something that was none of her damned business.

He moved away and found himself stopping at the sideboard. He had only had that one drink all night and despite what he had just said about imbibing too much, his body ached for the bottle. Any bottle.

But before he could do anything about it, he felt a gentle touch on his still bare elbow. He turned to find Gemma behind him. Utterly naked Gemma, her delicate hand sliding up his biceps as she held his gaze evenly.

“We are all entitled to some secrets, Crispin,” she whispered. “Please don’t think I will pursue yours like a bulldog. I have no interest in making your life difficult, especially since you seem to be willing to extend the same courtesy to me.”

He found himself nodding, though he couldn’t have formed a word to respond in that moment. Not when she eased closer and let her breasts flatten against his chest. Now when she tilted her lips up in clear offering. Offering he couldn’t deny. Offering that made him forget everything and anything else.

He ducked his head and kissed her, breathing her in, drinking her in like he would have done brandy in the hopes it would empty his head. She did it, oh so much more pleasurably. And as he backed her toward the settee a second time, he pushed away all thoughts of anything but this woman and how much he wanted to be inside her.

Gemma didn’t think her body had ever been so satisfied, even as her mind raced. She lay in Crispin’s bed…well,
their
bed, at least for the time being, staring up at the ceiling. They had made love twice in the parlor and once here before he drifted off to sleep. She hadn’t thought that was possible. Certainly Laurelcross had never made the barest attempt at such a thing. If she had asked to be touched more than once in a night, he probably would have looked at her in utter disgust.

But Crispin…Crispin seemed to like bringing her pleasure. He was aroused by it, that much was clear from how his body reacted.

And yet despite all that, she could not sleep. All she could think about was their talk in the parlor about the design of their marriage going forward. Crispin had said the right things when it came to her requests in a husband. But he was hiding something. Something dark. Something deep. It was a secret she found herself wanting to know even though she’d told him she didn’t care.

“You shouldn’t care,” she whispered out loud.

Beside her Crispin stirred, and she froze. Was he so light a sleeper that her quiet admonishment to herself had woken him? Would he confront her? Could she pretend he had dreamed what he heard?

He moaned a little and she relaxed. He was moving in his sleep due to a dream. He wasn’t awake. She held still and waited for him to fall back into deeper slumber, but he didn’t. He moved more, his legs and arms reaching for something that wasn’t there as incoherent sounds of distress left his lips.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his tone broken and shaking. “I’m so sorry.”

She reached out, unable to resist when he was in such obvious distress. She touched his bare arm and found a thin sheen of sweat on his body. “Crispin,” she said gently. “Crispin, wake up.”

He did just that in a burst, sitting bolt upright with a heartbreaking cry of, “No!” He sat there, panting for a moment, his fists clenching at the bedclothes. Then he turned toward her. “I-I’m sorry.”

“There’s no need,” she reassured him, wanting so desperately to touch his face but resisting. He still looked rocked by whatever horror had entered his sleep. “You were dreaming. It was just a dream.”

“That’s what they say,” he breathed, flopping back on the bed and covering his face with his forearm.

She frowned. What did he mean by that? Was his dream about something that had truly happened? Perhaps that dark secret that had been troubling her in the moments before he woke?

She lay down on her side and finally allowed herself to touch him. She smoothed a hand over his bare chest. He tensed at first, but then he exhaled slowly.

“Do you want to tell me what it was about?” she asked softly.

Any tension that had left his body with her touch returned as he stiffened beside her. He was quiet for a long moment, then he grunted, “Don’t remember.”

He was lying. She was certain of it, but if he didn’t wish to tell her, she had no right to demand more. But it hurt her to see him so upset. Hurt her to know that he needed comfort that she couldn’t provide.

She glanced down at his body, half-hidden beneath the sheets. Unless she could provide that comfort somehow.

She let her hand at his chest glide lower, caressing the defined muscles of his belly. He stiffened again, but this time it wasn’t in displeasure. Slowly, he lowered his arm from his face and stared at her.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

She smiled. “If I cannot talk to you about your dream, I’m simply hoping I can help in some other way.” His eyes went wide and suddenly she felt very awkward indeed. “Unless…unless you don’t want me to do so.”

He shifted closer to her on the bed. “Trust me, Gemma, I very much want you to do so, if you can take more tonight. You must be sore.”

She slid her hand further under the sheet and found his cock already half-hard. She smoothed her hand over it, loving how it came to life with her touch.

“Sore from wanting more, perhaps,” she whispered, watching his face as she began to work her hand over him again and again. His neck strained and he let out a groan of pleasure. He was entirely at her mercy. And she liked it.

She leaned in to kiss him, and he lifted his mouth to her greedily. She sank into his lips, tasting him, teasing him. He was allowing her control, whether by design or not, and it both thrilled and terrified her. The last time she had taken control, it had not ended well.

But she shoved that out of her mind and instead focused on Crispin’s pleasure. Her working hand around his cock was obviously what he needed, for he arched his back and thrust up into her with moans that vanished into her mouth.

“I want you around me,” he murmured, his groggy voice heavy with desire. She hesitated long enough that he met her gaze. “What is it?”

“I’m worried that—”

He smiled and the softness of it silenced her. “You can’t break me, Gemma. Only please me.”

She swallowed hard and straddled him. She leaned down, prolonging the wait for taking him, and kissed him again. His fingers came up to tangle in her hair and he sucked her tongue gently. Her body twitched in response and the wetness that had already begun from touching him increased tenfold. She wanted him. She needed him.

Those desires overcame her fear and she slid into position above his seeking cock. He gripped her hips and met her gaze as she slowly lowered over him, taking him in inch by heavenly inch until he was fully seated in her.

It was so different to be the one in control of lovemaking. It felt so different to hold him inside of her this way. She reveled in it for a moment until he gasped, “Please!”

His begging dragged her from her spell and she began to move over him. Slowly and first, but then faster. She rolled her hips over him, hitting the sweet spot of her clitoris each time. Her pleasure mounted higher and she squeezed his sides with her thighs as she rocked against him, seeking, reaching and finally exploding with a cry that ripped from her throat.

She continued to jerk over him, even as her orgasm made her movements erratic. He gripped her hips and guided her, lifting to meet her. With a deep, throaty groan, he arched her almost off the bed and she felt the hot burst of his seed deep within her.

They collapsed together, her body half on his, their breathing broken. He leaned down to press a kiss to her brow, then his arms closed around her and she felt him start to slip back into the sleep his nightmare had interrupted. She glanced up at him. His eyes drooped, his face relaxed and comfortable as if making love to her had at least cleared his mind from whatever he’d dreamed about.

She had never known anything like this physical connection with this man. But they shared it. And if it was all they ever shared, at least it was something.

Thanks to her aching body, Gemma was more than aware of every rock and bump of the carriage the next morning. As they rattled over cobblestones, she gripped the seat edge and tried to suppress a moan of both pleasure and pain. When she looked across to her husband, she found Crispin with an arched brow and a very smug grin.

“Sore?” he asked with laughter in his voice.

“Well-used,” she teased, and saw desire light in his eyes at the term. Good, let him ache a little like she did, since she doubted the bumps made his body so very aware of what they had done last night.

“I’m pleased to use you well,” he drawled. “But since our preparations were rushed this morning, I would suggest perhaps we have a long, hot bath drawn for you when we return. It will help with your soreness.”

She smiled at the thoughtfulness of the suggestion, but she was struggling to feel anything but anxiety, even as they teased. “After an afternoon with my father, I think a relaxing soak would be just the thing.” She shook her head. “Though I’m not certain it will be able to perform magic and make me entirely forget whatever is about to happen.”

The smug grin faded. “I can well imagine the worry you feel when you are forced to face your father. But there is one thing to keep in mind.”

“Yes?”

He reached out and briefly caressed her hand. Even through her thin glove, it was like a brand being pressed to her skin. He lit her on fire. “You are not alone in it.”

She blinked away her desire and stared at him. “You are under no obligation to face off with my father—”

He cut her off with a laugh. “Indeed, I am. Isn’t that in the marital vows? Thou shalt endure your wife’s family and protect her from them always.”

She couldn’t help but join him in his laughter. “I don’t know. I don’t recall it, but my first marriage was long ago and my last one was very late at night.”

“Then we shall assume that in my stupor I did recall that one thing correctly,” he said, folding his arms as if that were the last word on it. “And even if it wasn’t, I actually look forward to facing off with him.”